Mycroft Holmes Hates John Watson
by HiM'e'iTSu
Summary: Mycroft Holmes hated John Watson. That obnoxious ex-army doctor, following his brother's every step. Mycroft hated the man. Why? Personally, he thought the reason was quite obvious. Prompt story. Light Mystarde at the end.


**A/N: **This is the second of the two prompts for Mycroft Holmes Hates that I promised to turn into full stories. I loved this prompt when I first read it, but it was hard to write, since I had an idea but did not have a plot.

The name of the story is not very original but it serves it purpose - links this story to my series of 221b drabbles.

I hope you will enjoy it:)

**Beta: ****theLilyandtheRose**

**Prompt** from **Frecks**: "Mycroft hates John Watson? Not because he hates John himself but because Sherlock reacts to him and is nice to him and is generally almost human to him. But Mycroft is jealous of John because of this, Mycroft is Sherlock's older brother and Sherlock treats him the worst of anyone."

I couldn't resist adding some Mystrade in the end;)

* * *

"Let's go, John." Sherlock's voice is obnoxious, as always, but the way he hesitates to see if the other man is actually following him – it's barely noticeable but Mycroft didn't reach his position by being unobservant – is a definite tell.

The ex-army doctor glances at Mycroft one last time, an apology in his eyes, always an apology for Sherlock's actions, and scurries after his flat mate. Mycroft watches them go, hurt and angry. This is something new, he thinks; this time it's different. Cold emotionless analysis had always been his strong point; his mind working despite the feelings, dissecting the situation, calculating chances…Even now some part of his mind is analysing his own emotions, perusing the problem and providing solutions.

Hurt. Every meeting with Sherlock leaves him with the same feeling. His brother's resentment worse than Mummy's disappointed glances when he informs her that Sherlock has declined her invitation to dinner once again. His younger brother hates him and whatever Mycroft does he can't find the way to make it better. His every move, every step forward he takes turns out to be two steps back. It's frustrating. And hurtful.

Anger. That's a new feeling, Mycroft's mind offers. Sherlock is frustrating as hell, but whatever he does his older brother is never angry with him, irritated – yes, definitely, but never truly, hatefully angry.

So the anger is not directed at Sherlock. No.

Mycroft shakes his head slightly; Sherlock and his new flat mate have already disappeared from sight. Interesting, Mycroft muses, it would seem that he does not hold any warm feelings for John Watson. Maybe he even hates the man, a little bit. He isn't quite sure of the reason yet.

* * *

John Watson saved Sherlock's life. Mycroft knows that. He is eternally grateful for that. Still, every time Mycroft sees the ex-army doctor at his brother's side he can't keep the anger inside. Of course, he does not express it verbally, always polite and just a little bit superior to establish his authority – but that is nothing new, that is how he behaves with most people. On the inside though – a completely different story. He hates John Watson. He understands it with such clarity it's a miracle no one else notices.

221B is cluttered as always. Such a big mess in such a small space. Mycroft does not hold back his flinch as he glances around the apartment. He came here for business and it won't do to get sidetracked. Still, as he watches the easy domesticity that Sherlock displays with John, Mycroft feels it – the hate for the one person who managed to do what Mycroft couldn't. To make his brother happy.

Sometimes he wonders why. Why did Sherlock, the man who despised almost all the people he has encountered on his way through life, accept this meek, ordinary ex-army doctor so easily? Mycroft always did his best to be a good brother, but Sherlock only took it all the wrong way, rejected every peace offering, every offer of help. And now, out of the blue, this man, this stranger, has become to Sherlock what Mycroft always dreamed of being. A comrade. A brother, even.

Mycroft doesn't really care what they do behind the closed doors – it is one aspect of his brother's life he does not research with his usual vengeance. What he _is_ jealous of – and in the privacy of his own head Mycroft isn't scared to admit it – is their platonic relationship, how one shared glance is all it takes for them to understand each other. John Watson has become Sherlock's brother. The brother that Mycroft never managed to be. And it makes Mycroft hate the man.

* * *

It's on Sherlock's fifth case with John Watson when someone else picks up on Mycroft's attitude toward the ex-army doctor.

"What did the poor guy do to deserve such a glare?" DI Lestrade asks as he slides up to Mycroft at the crime scene.

Sherlock and John are walking away, content with the case closed. Mycroft glances at the man who has just appeared at his side. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He tries to object, even though he knows it's futile; they've known each other for so long and Gregory is exceptionally good at reading him. Better than anyone, Mycroft would have said had it not had other implications.

He does not need to look at the DI to know that Gregory is rolling his eyes. Then a hand is carelessly thrown over his shoulder, his calm exterior disturbed as he is jerked slightly to the side. "John is good for him." Gregory declares boisterously – but he means it. He does not know that it's the worst thing he can say at that moment. He doesn't realize it though.

* * *

John Watson saves his brother's live. More than once – Mycroft knows about every smallest occurrence – and in more than one sense. It's Gregory who points out the latest. He drops in one evening on the way from the Yard to his home.

Mycroft isn't particularly happy with the unexpected visit but there is nothing that can stop the other man from barging in; Mycroft has learned that the hard way.

"You know," Gregory says as he casually strolls into kitchen and starts preparing tea. "I think your brother has been more tolerable lately."

"What? He complemented Anderson?" Mycroft asks, managing to squeeze some sarcasm from his annoyance.

Gregory just laughs. "No, of course not. Though that might be interesting to see."

It might be interesting indeed, Mycroft thinks but does not share that thought with his friend. He takes a seat at the kitchen table and glances at Lestrade, who is standing with his back to the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

"What I mean," the DI continues after a moment of silence. "Is that Sherlock has been…nicer? Maybe that's too strong a word, but the point stays. He's kind of… more understanding."

"Are we talking about the same person here?"

"The crazy arrogant consulting detective? Yes, I'm pretty sure we are…Unless you want to tell me that you have another insane genius younger brother?"

"Not that I know of," Mycroft shoots back and winces immediately. "God, that was a terrible joke."

Gregory laughs softly, "I promise not to tell Mummy Holmes."

"Please don't. She always says that the Holmes men have terrible sense of humor."

"Well she is yours and Sherlock's mother after all. I can see where she's coming from." Gregory retorts with a grin. Then he turns around to face the counter and starts preparing tea.

Mycroft waits for a moment and then clears his throat, awkwardly getting them back to the topic. "You were saying about my brother being nice?"

"I didn't say 'nice'." Gregory scoffs. "I said 'nicer'. Don't twist my words."

"What is the basis for your theory?" Mycroft asks as he accepts a cup of hot tea and nods his gratitude.

"He didn't press the victim's brother? Didn't insult any of my people?" He shrugs. "Hard to say. I just have this general feeling…"

Mycroft snorts into his tea. Very ungentlemanly behaviour, one more thing his mother should not know about. Come to think about it, in all the years they've known each other Gregory has accumulated a whole collection of blackmail material. Thankfully he never intends to use it.

"It's all because of John." Gregory's abrupt conclusion is something Mycroft is not prepared for.

"What makes you say that?" He asks, putting down his cup. Thankfully he manages not to spit the beverage into the other man's face in surprise.

The DI shrugs. "John is a good influence on him. He teaches Sherlock what it means to be human."

Mycroft glances down, watching his hands wrap around the cup, eyes following the swirls of dark liquid. The carelessness of the last half an hour, that had comforted him since the moment Gregory entered his apartment, has vanished.

John Watson. Once again proving himself to be better friend to Sherlock than Mycroft. It makes Mycroft feel like a failure. He excels at everything he does – but not this, not at the most important task. Not at being an older brother. It makes Mycroft hate John.

Sensing the change in Mycroft's attitude Gregory reaches for his hand across the table. Mycroft sees his hand hesitate and hover inches from his own, unsure if the touch would be welcome. Mycroft moves away first.

"He is a good man." Gregory says softly, switching to comforting words instead of comforting touches. "Why do you…What makes you hate him so much?"

Denial is on the tip of his tongue but Mycroft hesitates; Gregory knows him too well not to spot such a blatant lie. "He _is _a good man," he says with a slight nod. "A significantly better person than I am, isn't he?" Mycroft makes sure to keep his voice neutral since his words are betraying his insecurity already.

A silence follows. Mycroft fidgets slightly, clasping the cup in his hands too tight, refusing to meet the other man's eyes. Gregory's scoff makes him snap his head up and stare at the DI in confusion.

"So you _are_ jealous?" Gregory asks. "That's it?"

"This man has become my brother's best friend so quickly. A feat I failed to achieve for years. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"Sad?" Gregory ventures and then scoffs. "But surely it's not supposed to make you _hate_ him."

Mycroft glares at him, offended, but the anger wavers at his friend's earnest expression. Gregory just wants to help him; the man has always been a voice of reason when Mycroft's obsessions go too far. A man like Mycroft Holmes, so influential, needs someone to tell him no. Gregory has been that person since the day they met.

"I don't-"

"Yes, you bloody do! Mycroft," the DI looks him in the eyes, making a point. "You think I don't notice the glares you send him every time the man turns his back?"

Ashamed, Mycroft breaks his gaze, looking away. Quietly, he admits. "Yes, I do hate John Watson. He…he's such a good friend to Sherlock. I've never…"

"The strain on your relationship with Sherlock is not only your fault." Gregory cuts in sharply. Then his voice softens. "It takes two people to build a relationship. When you are the only one who wants reconciliation it still will not work."

Mycroft's gaze falls to the floor as he quietly contemplates his friend's words; he thought about it. Of course he did. All the options have run through his mind, but his perspective is subjective, he is a part of this equation and cannot discern the right answer from the inside.

Gregory can't either, Mycroft is sure, just because the man does not understand how Mycroft's mind works. But he tries, does his best to understand and to make it better.

"Look at the situation my way," the DI suggests. "There is a person who is close to Sherlock. Who is by his side most of the time. Who can keep an eye on him, take care of him. I don't have to worry about him. _You_ don't have to worry about Sherlock all the time."

Gregory steps up to him and puts his hands on Mycroft's shoulders. "That is a good thing. Good for _you_."

"Is it?" Mycroft glances at him, uncertain.

"Yes," Gregory replies emphatically. "_Yes._"

Mycroft has thought about the situation from this point of view as well as from any other, but did not dare accept it. Now though, he wants to let Gregory persuade him. John Watson has saved his brother's life so many times…Maybe it is time to let go of this childish hate.

He nods, shortly, sharply, and feels Gregory's hands squeeze his shoulders. "I suppose…you are right." It takes a lot to say these words, but as soon as they are out he feels better. It feels like it is the right thing to do. "John Watson is a good man." He utters, strengthening his own assertion. Then he looks up, right into Gregory's eyes. They are not judging, his gaze understanding and relieved. A small smile stretches the DI's lips. Mycroft smiles in return.

There is a moment, one like many others they had before. A silence while they gaze into each other's eyes, neither unwilling to break it. Tension fills the air, along with awkwardness. Like always, Mycroft has no idea what to do. Gregory, it seems, doesn't either. So, when minutes fly and nothing happens, Mycroft steps away, nodding his thanks to his friend.

"And, who knows," Gregory mumbles, quietly. They are a few feet apart but the awkwardness has not dissipated. "Maybe now you'll have more time to worry about your own life." The DI does not look at Mycroft as he says it. A runs a hand over his hair – it's his nervous gesture, Mycroft knows. "Personal life." Gregory clarifies, quite unnecessary.

Mycroft nods once again. Somehow, he knows what the other man means. Somehow, he is not sure that they'll ever move further than these awkward moments they keep having. Somehow, he hopes they will.

But not now, not today, he concludes.

Mycroft informs Gregory that he still has some work to do and the DI leaves, but before he does their gazes connect one more time and Mycroft says 'Thank you'. Gregory nods and leaves the room, letting himself out of the apartment.

Mycroft does not think about how he wishes one day he'll be brave enough to ask the other man to stay.

Instead, he checks surveillance reports on Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson and, for the first time since the appearance of his brother's flat mate, does not feel any anger towards John. He is a good man. He is another person to look after Sherlock. And that is a good thing.

Maybe, Mycroft thinks, the three of them would be able to keep the consulting detective out of trouble. Possible. But unlikely.


End file.
